


Quick

by carriedon_awolfsback



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, POV Second Person, it’s very straightforward, reader could be trans or cis male it’s up to you, top reader, very plot-what-plot, well BELIEVE IT BABY, would you believe the spark of this idea came to me in a dream, x reader fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 18:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carriedon_awolfsback/pseuds/carriedon_awolfsback
Summary: On anyone else it would have seemed like pornstar posturing, but fuck, he really was just like that.





	Quick

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lil something-something for the under-repped gents of the fandom, part inspired by some insights from the groupchat (@ James and Gabe big ups, my dudes). I don’t often write male POVs due to write-what-you-know-itis and chronic self-indulgence syndrome, so I hope it rings true!
> 
> I may revisit this for reworks (especially in the dialogue) in the future when I get a bit more male-POV confidence. Advice is welcome if you have insight!

“Fuck me.”

It was porno-movie cheesy the way he crawled up your body, but that was just him all over, wasn’t it? Papa purred as he rubbed against your harnessed cock on the way up, dipping his head to press a suckling kiss at your neck. “Please, fuck me,” he stage-whispered again insistently as his mouth travelled along your jawline.

You scratched idly at his back, sliding one hand down to dig nails in a little harder to his hips and backside, making his breath hitch. “You gonna ride my cock?” You coaxed him. “You’re not done working for it yet.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, his hands clawing and unclawing in the sheets either side of your head with anticipation. For someone that made a handsome living talking a lot of bullshit to a lot of people, and garnered so much joy from talking just as much bullshit even in his own casual time, he got amazingly tongue-tied when his brain was allowed to fully relocate itself to his dick. Especially at times like this, after a good hour alternating between tolerating your teasing and preparation, and tending to your demands.

“Get me ready, then.” The bottle of lube that had gotten him take your fingers earlier was still on the nightstand, and he wasted no time in sitting up, swiping it up with one hand and emptying a generous amount into the other palm. Rather than turn around, he reached back behind himself to grasp you and stroke, coating the firm length in slickness. He made sure he kept his eyes on your face as he did so, watching how his motions affected your expressions; how you glanced to his concealed hand, to his rising cock, then back up to his face. You felt his rough tugs cease, and his eyes grew heavier-lidded as he reached further back and readied himself with the remaining lube on his fingers. 

He cocked his head with an impish smirk, seeing how you held his gaze less and less and dropped your eyes down his body more and more as he worked. “I’m ready, are you?”

You placed your hands on the sides of his thighs and squeezed in both encouragement and challenge, lifting slightly against him.

He sank back with a sigh, the tension in his thighs and belly relaxing, only the taut line in his neck where he tipped his head back a little giving away that he was feeling the slight ache before adjusting. He hissed for a moment and then sighed contentedly as his plush ass met your thighs, nipping his lip and breathing hard as he tried a little roll of his spine.

“You doing okay?” You squeezed his thighs again, straining your shoulders to reach round and rest your hands on the top of his ass.

“So good,” he managed with a breathy growl, his legs tensing and relaxing as he started to rise and fall just a little. Looking down your bodies you could see where you joined, just a little when he lifted himself, and how his heavy breaths harmonised with the sink of your length into him. You lifted your own hips to meet him almost without thinking about it, and he arched his back with an approving murmur.

He moved so fluidly it was unreal sometimes, bordering on hypnotic. He tilted his head back and to the side as he started building up a pace and breathing harder, baring his throat along with his chest and slightly soft belly. His slender hands came up to push his hair back and stroke at his own neck, fingertips brushing his dark nipples with a soft moan on the way, leaving his cock flushed but untouched between his spread legs. On anyone else it would have seemed like pornstar posturing, but fuck, he really was just like that. He loved the opportunity to show off like this, and it showed in how quickly he started to drip a little precum, a couple of pale strands tracking down his shaft. As good as his closed, painted eyes looked with their long dark lashes, you couldn’t resist the single thumb-swipe to his wet, neglected tip that made them flutter open, mismatched and hazy, and his jaws part in an uncontrolled gasp. 

“You need some more of that?” You teased him, wiping the stickiness left on your thumb off on his thigh.

“Mmmmh,” he struggled to put together anything coherent. “I’m- yh- ohh, not yet.”

“No?” You brushed your fingertips over his inner thigh instead, frowning exaggeratedly, but realising exactly his predicament. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Fuck.” He looked down his nose at your tormenting fingertips, almost going cross-eyed from the angle and stimulation. “I’m… no, it’s, fuck, you’re so good, I’ll… go too fast-”

“You’re only saying that because you know it’ll make me do this.” You wrapped that teasing hand around his cock in one swift movement and began stroking him fast and firm, pulling a long, relieved moan out of him and prompting a fresh surge of wetness under your palm. “You’ve done good tonight, you can come quick if you want to.”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” he gasped out, squirming in your lap to find the perfect angle, trying to tempt you to move more for him. He got no mercy, just more elaborate strokes.

His head hung and his hands came to rest on your shoulders and he slumped forward, supporting him as he worked those fluid hips, chasing his release in earnest. His grip was bruising and his weight along your body was by no means feather-light, but his needy display was worth it. Every rock forward pushed his cock through your form grip; every rock back buried yours to the hilt and pushed a low, broken noise of lust from him, cutting through the slick sounds of skin meeting with more and more intensity. Your free hand pushed between the two of you to rub at his tense belly and chest, and he started to pant and bare his teeth like a beast, one of his telltale signs.

“You gonna come fast?” You slid your hand up around his side and shoulders and into his hair, tugging the thick black locks gently to raise his face. The dramatic paint masked most of it, but his neck and the edges of his soft cheeks were flushing pink from exertion. He made a higher, weak noise when you pulled him back by the hair, and you felt him throb in your hand, almost there.

“Open your eyes for me,” you instructed, emboldened- slightly dizzied- by his urgent sounds. “Let me see you come for me.”

One more scratching tug on his scalp did the trick for him. His eyes flashed open and immediately rolled as he ground down with shuddering hips, and his initial groaning snarl of pleasure melted into a panting half-grin when you rocked gently back into him; a silly, blissful expression that showed the sharp little teeth behind his painted lips and the tip of his pink tongue. Only after the harsh first wave of his orgasm did his cock start to pulse, painting your still gently-working fist with hot, thick white.

You kept it up until he pawed at your arm- “too much”, he panted, although his glazed eyes and lopsided open smile were still writ large on his face. He pulled himself fully upright in your lap after a moment of recovery and pushed his hair back, still wringing out the last of his enjoyment with a few more final swirls of his hips.

“You not done killing my damn pelvis yet, big guy?” You teased him, giving him a light slap on the hip. He only grinned back, before falling forwards with a last long, contented huff, letting you slide free of him, and pressed a comically chaste kiss to your forehead.

You stayed that way for a few moments, breathing in unison, his face leaving swipes of black and white paint over yours as he let himself relax down and nuzzle your temples. Then he made a fake snore sound right beside your ear, and you both shook with laughter as you shoved him to the side playfully and rolled after him.


End file.
